


grave crimes

by antheeia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, Corpse Desecration, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), F/M, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Mental Instability, Necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 22:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheeia/pseuds/antheeia
Summary: When Dimitri says he's a monster, this is what he's thinking about.His younger self looked at him from the crowd of familiar faces. He, too, asked for revenge, with blood on his face and horror in his large blue eyes.“What do you want?” Dimitri growled at himself, barely raising his face from the body.





	grave crimes

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags.  
Save Dimitri.

His enemies all looked like her.

In some way, all of them had something of her. Her long, freshly brushed hair that smelled like flowers; her small but strong hands; her lips, the same kind of mouth, slightly ajar; her skin so pale it glistened in the moonlight; her light eyes pointed towards the starred night sky; her breasts, soft as he always imagined them, with firm nipples standing up under the layer of clothes and armor he’d removed.

His enemies all looked like her, and yet the body flashing in front of his eyes looked much too similar. 

Dimitri could still smell the sweetness of that hair through the strong iron of blood that stung his nostrils, and appreciate the elegance of those hands that would never be as bloodied as his, even torn off as they were, wrists twisted and muscles sprained, bones broken to take the arm apart. Those lips were mute, incapable of words, and the last sound they’d uttered was but a pained rattle; the eyes were dull for they missed the spark of life, and stared motionless towards a sky they would never see again. More than removed, her armor had been broken, torn apart by his lance, and from under it, the woman’s breasts were barely recognizable, covered in large wounds, exposing muscle and bones and the inside of her ribcage.

Dimitri fell on his knees.

_Will you let her get away with just that?_

One moment that body looked exactly like countless others, the next it was _her_ body, and voices whispered, talked, screamed in his ears.

_Is _this_ your idea of revenge, Dimitri?_

Immersed in the stench of blood and death, he growled at the image of Edelgard as he remembered her, in her Academy uniform, now tattered and ruined. Dimitri’s body moved on its own, gloved hand removing what remained of her clothes.

Her skin was bruised and livid, and blood had already started pooling underneath it. A broken rib protruded out of her chest like a knife stabbing her heart, and more broken fragments punctured what he could see of her lungs, left exposed by torn flesh. Her insides sprouted from her pierced stomach in curls of rouge and violet tissue, and blood had blossomed out of her wounds, pooled on the ground in a crimson sea that was quickly turning into dire, death-soaked soil.

It was Edelgard, proud and cold, and guilty and evil, those merciless eyes of hers finally empty of life, and it was another nameless woman, guilty nonetheless, but of far less grave crimes. The body was one and the other, and both of them, and none of the two.

_She deserved this. They all do. _A chorus of voices haunted his thoughts. He could see them all, in front of him, beside him, behind him. His father, his stepmother, Sir Fynn who made him fake weapons to play with, so many familiar faces he’d lost to the fire.

Glenn was leading them all.

_You must take revenge for us all, Dimitri,_ he said with the same soft face he once had, with that same, always gentle, eternally young voice.

“I will,” Dimitri growled. “I will, I will, I will!” he repeated, voice rising in tone until he was screaming, his hands covering his ears in vain against voices that only existed in his head.

He pointed his gaze down so he didn’t have to stare into the empty dead eyes of his father, and looked into the girl’s instead. 

The girl was El, young El, the child who taught him to dance, and then she was Edelgard who shrugged him off at the Academy some years before, and then she was the Emperor, on that fateful day, sentencing him to death.

Something left a wet trace on his cheek and then fell on the girl’s still face, mixed with the blood from the gash cutting her jaw in two, exposing teeth and a tongue well hidden in its place between them. It took him a while to realize it was not blood from his own wound that had just dripped.

He took one of her maimed hands, yanked it away with a grunt, breaking the last of the nerves and muscles keeping it together with the rest of the body, then threw it as far away as possible.

A crow cawed after its piece of dinner. Dimitri felt no different from it when he threw himself on her.

He grabbed that lifeless, defenseless body, pulled it further under him until he was face to face with her. Her eyes stared back at him, as if mocking him, and he slapped them away, turned her face to look at the bloody mud. Then, he sank his fingers into her supple flesh, not yet stiffened by the coldness of death. His nails tore it apart like fangs, and he dug into her chest. Barehanded, he broke her breastbone, made way for his arms to delve into her chest. 

He was deep red to his elbows when he extracted the heart.

Pierced, maimed as much as her body was, the pathetic organ vomited blood all over him, her, between their bodies. He threw that away too.

_Not enough, notenough, notenoughnotenoughnotenough._

He shut his eye against the voices splitting his head in half, deaf to his own screams, then hid his face in her neck. He couldn’t smell her hair anymore, only the stench of the death overtaking her still-warm body.

He was moved by a delirium of the senses whose heat shook the blood in his veins, heartbeat after heartbeat. He was sweating, and the air felt icy inside his lungs. Edelgard’s eyes looked the other way, as they always did, and his bloodied hands held her by the shoulders — crooked, bent all the wrong ways like her back — and shook her as if looking for a reaction.

In that feverish state, amid anger, grief, and pain, he felt himself grow hard.

His teeth sank into the stringy flesh of her neck, muscles and veins surrendering to his bite all too easily. He tasted clotting blood on his tongue, flooding his mouth like a poison he both yearned for and refused with all his might.

He only had to unbuckle his belt to let the armor piece covering his groin fall to the ground. Then, opening the leather strap to let his erection free was a matter of seconds.

His younger self looked at him from the crowd of familiar faces. He, too, asked for revenge, with blood on his face and horror in his large blue eyes.

“What do you want?” Dimitri growled at himself, barely raising his face from the body. Blood drooled all over his mouth and chin, dirtied the fur of his cloak. He felt it slide down in large, thick drops. He roared at the boy as if to scare him away.

The figure, long blond hair too early sullied with the terrors of war, shuddered, but didn’t move — you can never run from yourself, after all. He shook his head, eyes wide with fear, and maybe even disgust.

“What’s that?” Dimitri laughed all his unhappiness, all his pain. “You want revenge, boy?” he screamed at him, as if the poor thing could do anything about it. “Look at it, then. This is our revenge!”

Dimitri looked back at the girl, with a smile on his face as large as a smile can be without reaching the eyes. Edelgard, or at least that shadow of her, still hadn’t moved her gaze. She was drenched in blood as much as he was, or maybe even more, she had no hands to grab him and no voice to scream, and her body yielded to him so easily it seemed absurd.

As Dimitri moved, her body reacted. Her gut vomited clotted blood and bile, her insides shaking and throbbing along with his thrusts. It made him shiver with its own sort of twisted pleasure — pleasure in the beast he had become.

_That’s more like it,_ laughed Glenn, just as he laughed when Dimitri was a boy trying with surprising success to wield a spear.

Dimitri sank his teeth into the mess of blood and flesh the girl’s throat had become, closed them around a piece of stringy meat and tore it away. He chewed on it with his head still lowered, hair drenched in blood, his hands keeping the body in place as he thrust and thrust and thrust and that pleasure, a bit like violence, a bit like victory, shot its pleasant jolts up his spine.

_Does she deserve to keep her head on her neck, son?_

Dimitri growled, swallowed the meat, and thrust faster, harder, blinded by the taste of that little piece of _revenge_ on his tongue, down his throat, in his stomach. He closed his hands around her neck, and then he closed them some more. She did not deserve it.

The already butchered flesh, the broken bones, they resisted as much as they could, they fiercely offered their reckless opposition, however useless it was. And just as they’d yielded to Areadbhar before, parting like soft butter to make their way for the relic’s power, they did so again for his hands, let them mangle the muscles and veins of her neck until nothing but bare vertebrae remained.

Then he snapped the head off her neck, with a single pull. 

He shivered from the pleasure of that act, from the feeling of accomplishment when, for a mere moment, he felt one step closer to the revenge he so desperately yearned for. He pounded into the lifeless body one last time, and the girl’s guts spilled forth, poured out of her body as he poured himself into it.

The small, salty drops — mixing with the ravaged body and the desecrated soil underneath — were spilled unseen. And, for a long minute after that, the voices were silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to El (not that El), for cheerleading, betaing and just being amazing in general.  
And thanks to [@amaurotine_](https://twitter.com/amaurotine_) for the fic concept!


End file.
